Unexpected Journeys…
The weirdest thing happened yesterday. I left the house in the middle of the morning to go to the store. About a block and a half from my house, a red minivan pulled in behind me. I turned left at the edge of the subdivision. It followed me. I turned right at the next intersection. It followed me. A left, another left, through several lights, and onto the freeway–the minivan was still behind me. It got off at the same exit, and turned right, still smack on my bumper. Down the road and into the parking lot at the store, and the minivan was still there. At this point, I would probably have been freaking out a little and engaging in some evasive maneuvers–had I not know that it was my very good friend B. from up the street heading out to do some shopping of her own. Har har, I know…I’m soooo funny. She thought so too, when I jokingly threatened to call the police.
It had been a while since we chatted; the last time we spoke I was feeling pretty overwhelmed, so she asked how things were going, homeschooling in particular. I told her that things were settling down. The doctor had finally found something that got rid of the hideous stomach bug I had through all of August and September and half of October (hooray for modern medicine!), and I’m sleeping better. It’s amazing how much less overwhelming life looks when you’re not nauseous, exhausted half out of your mind, and running to the bathroom every ten minutes. I know. Just like being pregnant. Heard that one already, but I beg to disagree; when you’re pregnant you at least get to look forward to a new baby when it’s all over. On the upside, I’ve so far managed to keep off the weight I lost. 
I also told her that homeschooling is at last settling into a good, solid routine. Cricket has more or less adjusted and is making good progress. The atmosphere in our home is more relaxed and healthy for the whole family. It’s really nice. My friend B. looked at my big happy grin and said. “You’re loving it, aren’t you.” I admitted that I am. She grinned back conspiratorially. “And you were so afraid of it.”
She’s absolutely right–except that “afraid” hardly seems to come close to describing what I was. I was terrified. Horrified. Petrified. Uh uh. No freaking way was I ever going to homeschool. Especially not this child. Not on this planet, I was not. Just not going to happen. No way, no how. But it’s true, I’m now not only getting by, I actually am loving it.
My horror of homeschool, I think, stemmed from three independent little streams trickling down from the mountains of semi-consciousness in my mind. The first was this: every homeschooled child I’d ever met–ever–was a weirdo. Ok, now I know you diehard homeschool proponents out there are revving up your “unjust stereotype” engines for a good (and possibly well deserved) hissy fit. But that’s how I felt about it. Still do, to some extent. School is a hard place to be. Bad things do happen there. There are mean people. But I think there’s something to be said for learning to deal with mean people while they’re still under five feet tall and can do less real damage, and while you have some adult mentors around to a) teach you about handling these things and b) hide behind if necessary. There are some subtle aspects of the “S” word (that’s “socialization” to you non-homeschool types) that I still really don’t think get addressed well in home education. There are other subtle aspects that get addressed in a much better way, too, if you ask me. But when it comes to peer relationships, a public schooled child will probably be able to pick up on some subtle “weirdness” in a homeschooled child. Sorry, folks, but that’s how I see it.
The second little trickle of dread was this: I am not a teacher. I am a reasonably well-educated, intelligent person with a love for learning. I enjoy reading and trying new things, just to see if I can figure it out. I enjoy observing life, asking questions, and digging out solid answers to them. But I have very little memory of how I was taught various things in school. There are some things I’m quite sure I didn’t learn–not very well, and maybe not at all. I just get on without them. I could never teach them. And I never, never had ambitions to be a school teacher. To be perfectly frank, if I ever needed to go out and earn the living for our family I can think of about, oh, a thousand or so things I’d choose to do before I’d get into teaching as a profession. Maybe more. So I have no background in teaching. I have no particular desire to teach. I would have no idea where to even begin teaching a child at home. By myself. What if I couldn’t do it? What if I hated it and made us all miserable? What if I messed up his whole life by not teaching him something important?
The last stream of semi-concious terror stemmed mostly from the fact that this child is a “special needs” child. At school he has “staff”. He has a whole entourage of people who know what they’re doing. He has a “professional” teacher, who has had some training as to how to instruct children–and what they should be learning. He has a one-on-one classroom technician who has had some training in how to keep him motivated and on task. He has a special education instructor overseeing his progress to make sure he is learning, and to help suggest ways of adapting the curriculum to his special needs. He has a speech pathologist, a school psychiatrist, and a district autism team specialist all looking out for his social development and mental and emotional well-being. He has an understanding principal who cares about him, personally, and is more than willing to work with the rest of the team to make sure appropriate accommodations are thought up and carried out. She can bring to bear physical therapists and occupational therapists and who-knows-what-all kinds of therapists if necessary to ensure that my child gets a decent education. How could I possibly compete with that? I don’t have anything like the knowledge base these good people have, especially not when you consider their combined expertise and years of experience. Surely he was better off with them. Only….it wasn’t working. But…if the “professionals” couldn’t do it, how on earth could I? I’m “just” a Mom. (How many times have you heard that phrase in our society. “I’m just a Mom.” “Oh, you’re just a Mom.” “Her? She’s just a Mom.” Or, as one old college friend put it when I ran into him several years after graduation, “You were always way too talented to waste it being just a Mom.” Thanks.)
But seriously, Moms are great! Momming is THE most important profession in the world, hands down. How many other professions exist primarily to assist the Moms of the world in doing their important work? Think about it. But Moms do need help sometimes–professional help. Especially when it comes to “special needs” children. Ask anyone. And I remembered that last year and a half or so before he started kindergarten, and we were home together. It was NOT GOOD. In fact, not getting into the ugly details, but that was the worst, darkest time of my life. And that’s saying something, considering the torment that was junior high. I did NOT want to go back there. Ever.
So there I was. NOT homeschooling. Not under any circumstances….though there had been a nagging feeling at the back of my mind for several years that homeschooling would be a better environment for this particular child. But I wasn’t cut out for homeschooling. I was not one of those amazing moms who can actually do this stuff. Also, I was not a fanatical religious nut-case (no snickering). And what about socialization? (Ok, go ahead and snicker.)
Well, it was about this time last year, not long before Christmas, that I had my big epiphany.
Cricket was falling apart. We’d upped the dosage on his anxiety medication–again. But he was still a mess. Every morning before school he had a headache. And a stomach ache. And his leg hurt. And he was lethargic (seriously, he used that word). And it was getting harder and harder to tell when he really felt unwell, and when he was just making desperate attempts to avoid school. In fact, I became more and more convinced that there was less and less difference between the two. He was feeling so desperate that his desperation was creating actual physical symptoms. He wasn’t eating well. He wasn’t sleeping well. He was having toileting problems. I had do drag him, literally kicking and screaming, into the school, where we met up with his technician. After a bit of a transition time, she would walk him down to the library or the quiet room to spend a little while getting used to being away from mom and in a school environment before he had to go into the classroom. He had a scheduled break in the morning, and some “break cards” he could use in an “emergency” to get out of the classroom when he was feeling overwhelmed. He used all of them every day (sometimes just to get out of doing assignments, I’m told; not a dim bulb, that one). The afternoon “specialist” classes (music, PE, etc.) were so overwhelming to his senses that he melted down regularly, and we finally arranged some alternate activities so he would not be tormented by thirty children singing off-key, or screaming and running around all at the same time in a way-too-big space full of echos. After school, he would come home and hide in a computer game. He was cranky and touchy and didn’t want to talk to anyone. He did NOT want to be around his little sister who hadn’t seen him all day, and enthusiastically wanted to play with him. Homework was torment–for all of us. I mean, it was just not a pretty picture, all around.
I spent a lot of time reading about AS and education, talking with the “experts” and his teacher to try to find ways to make things better–and watching my son struggling every day just to keep himself from falling apart. And praying. Lots of praying. One evening while praying for guidance about what to do to help our son, homeschooling again came to mind. Oh no, I said, inside my head. Can’t go there. But the thought came again more persistently. And I rejected it more firmly. At which point God quit being Mr. Nice Guy and walloped me upside the head–spiritually speaking of course–and let me know that if I prayed for help and guidance, I’d just BETTER be willing to take what I got from it. The very LEAST I could do was to take the possibility of homeschooling seriously enough to do a little research about what exactly it would entail, rather than just rejecting it offhand because it was scary to me. If I was truly concerned with what was best for my son, I needed to be willing to confront my own fears for his sake. So I spent a few days looking for some books and internet information about homeschooling, and particularly about homeschooling a child with AS. I looked up the legal requirements for my state. I read about different homeschooling philosophies. I found some online homeschool suppliers and started looking at the available materials.
And the more I looked, and read, and researched, the more I could imagine doing this. And doing it successfully. And so, with a bit more divine nudging (I’m afraid Cricket came by his stubborn nature honestly), and a lot of support from my darling Pop, I took that scary plunge into the vast, dark, terrifyingly unknown void of….
…well….
…sunrise as it turns out.
And yes, I’m loving it.
____________________
[Editorial note: this is a post I had started back before Christmas, and just recently took the time to finish, so if my ‘yesterday’ friend reads this story and thinks I’m batty, yes this did not in fact occur ‘yesterday’ when I finished it, but it was ‘yesterday’ when I started. If you get my drift. And I just left it like that. However, the fact that I am aware of the shift in time frame does not necessarily rule out the possibility of my being a little batty.]
Well, sometimes I think about the same thing. Chip’s doing great in school, and the last two years he’s had very good teachers, but this year his teacher is a mess, emotionally and orginizationally (the first time I met her she started going off on this long tirade about how she used to teach kindergarten but then got moved to second grade and she feels like she’s being punished… uh, that was well over two years ago, I found out when I did some research later, and although I tend to draw this kind of thing out of people, she didn’t even know me when she spilled her guts like that, you think she might have some issues maybe? Yeah.) I feel like I’m the one teaching him this year, since he’s not learning a thing in class, except for things I don’t want him to learn. See, recently he discovered although his teacher supposedly makes them fill out a behavior sheet every day for us to sign, like every other teacher does at his school, well, his teacher doesn’t check them. So he decided, why not lie on the days he gets in trouble and just not tell us? That worked for several months until I got a random note from his teacher recently that briefly mentioned about him getting in trouble twice that week… what? I don’t think his teacher even knows he’s been lying, he’s been doing it since September, and so has all of his friends, once they found out they could get away with it. So I pulled out all the behavior sheets I’ve been saving in his folder, and I’m going to go through the book in school and see just how truthful he’s been, and let his teacher know what’s going on in her classroom. I told Chip he’s to confess everything he’s done to her this morning, and he’s also to let his friends know he got busted, and they’re going to get caught sooner or later too, so they had better come clean with their parents before the parent-teacher conferences next week when they are all probably going to find out the hard way. We’ll see if Chip can earn back our trust, so far he’s had a couple of opportunities and has blown it, we have hope though.
Anyway, home schooled kids might be different, but they are different in a good way. They are much more mature, and grow up happier I think than their more conventional peers, but I am not brave enough to attempt it myself. Most of the teachers at Chip’s school are wonderful, but then again, they teach at a school where the parents are very involved and support their teachers. Parental involvement is the key. If the parents don’t care, the kids don’t care, and it’s almost impossible for the teachers to do anything about it, some are miracle workers but really it all boils down to the parents reinforcing the lessons the kids are trying to learn at school.
Anyway, I think you’re doing a great job, your mother in law has bragged to me about how great the kids are when I’ve gotten notes from her. If things don’t improve, I might consider doing the same thing, but I think they will, most of the teachers there are awesome and one of our friends teaches fifth grade there, I might go talk to him about what I can do to make sure Chip gets the best teachers (since I know he already talked to Chip’s kindergarted teacher about the same thing, guess he just slipped though the cracks this year) Thank goodness this is all happening this year when both Trey and I are home to deal with it, because next year with the toy store we might have been too busy to catch it. Wish us luck!
Comment by Susy — January 31, 2007 @ 8:29 am
Good luck!!
Yeah, homeschooled kids might be “different”, but that’s not necessarily “bad”. And I have come to the conclusion that Cricket is going to be “different” no matter where he gets educated. He’s just not wired like everyone else. And in some ways that can be a very good thing…lol. I have also decided that it’s better for him to be a “different” sort of happy, competent homeschooled person than a “different” sort of basket case from being in public school. And we have a good school here, with wonderful people working there. I have nothing against them, and plan to send Sunshine there in the fall. It was just the wrong setting for Cricket. I see that now…lol.
And hey, if you decide to go the homeschool route, I’d be happy to toss ideas around with you. I’m becoming quite gung-ho on the homeschool thing, myself. Not as THE only way to educate a child, but certainly as a very good way. And in my experience, it’s not as scary as it seemed when I was on the outside looking in. You might surprise yourself.
Comment by Mom — February 1, 2007 @ 5:24 pm
This is my first visit to your blog. I like what I read…
We have some similarities(as far as our children are concerned) so a lot of what you wrote resonated with me. We are in our first year of homeschooling (starting with 9th grade) because “school” just wasn’t working for our son. Now, he is doing quite well and loving it. It certainly is a nice feeling when things come together, isn’t it?
Love your writing style…I’ll be back to visit again
Comment by christy — February 6, 2007 @ 11:40 pm
Welcome, Christy! It’s always nice to see a new face. Come back often, and comment to your heart’s content.
And yes, it’s WONDERFUL when it all comes together and starts to flow.
Comment by Mom — February 7, 2007 @ 10:15 am
One thing I like about the Carnival of Homeschooling is that every week I find great new blogs like yours!
I also have a son with AS. I also started homeschooling this year because middle school was just way too overwhelming for him. I am a licensed Special Education teacher with credentials and degrees and I still thought we couldn’t make it without the team.
I am finding myself constantly adjusting and thinking and changing my educational philosophy to fit my kid–what a concept!
I also am finding that I am loving it!
I am adding your blog to my favorites so I can check in often!
Comment by Elisheva Levin — February 7, 2007 @ 3:21 pm
Thanks for dropping in, Elisheva. It’s always nice to find someone out there in the same boat–I feel less alone. I hope to see you around some more!
Comment by Mom — February 7, 2007 @ 8:15 pm
Good luck on your homeschooling! Found your comments interesting on the ‘wierdness’ of homeschooled kids. You will probably have those people who will meet your child now and will attribute his differentness to being homeschooled, even though you know your child was different from the beginning.
I found myself looking at some new homeschoolers that joined our group with those same stereotypic glasses. I found the child, who was around 10, to be gawky, extremely shy and the poster child for homeschool wierdness. I groaned inwardly at my decision to beginning homeschooling my little one, thinking what am I doing to my child? Well, after talking with the people, it turns out that they just started homeschooling and the child had previously been in ps the whole time. So obviously, homeschooling had absolutely nothing to do with it and no one blames any other type of schooling for creating wierdness, so it must have to do with other factors and probably has a lot to do with the thoughts and notions of the viewer.
Homeschooled students are usually seen in isolation or small groups and not in a group of 30 kids, so their eccentricities if they have some stand out. The word ‘homeschool’ seems to make some non homeschoolers especially alert and vigilant to oddities since they don’t really understand the whole thing. When they view a group of ps kids, they aren’t as scrutinizing since to them the situation is viewed in the spectrum of normalcy and their radar isn’t tripped as easily.
Just my thoughts of the whole wierdness idea.—
Comment by Cat — February 8, 2007 @ 8:52 am
Cat, thanks for visiting. Always happy to see a new “face”. You may be right to some degree. But I do still think there’s a difference. Not necessarily a ‘bad’ difference, though.
Kids who go to a public school become accustomed to interacting with each other in particular ways. Kids who school at home interact with people in ways that are slightly different–due in part, I think, to the different variety of types of people with whom they come into regular contact, and the different routines by which they live their lives. When you put the two together, they both tend to try to interact in the ways to which they have become accustomed, and they begin to discover the ways in which the two ways of interacting are incompatible–or at least have a slightly different “accent”, so to speak. Since what is “weird” is generally determined by what is different from the majority (or norm), it generally shakes out that the homeschoolers, being fewer in number, are the “weird” man out.
I think it’s unrealistic to think that kids who are schooled at home are going to develop the same habits of interaction that kids in a public, or even private school setting will develop. But I don’t necessarily see that as a negative thing. In fact, one of the reasons many people homeschool in the first place is that they don’t WANT their kids to learn, or even be exposed to, the kinds of interactions they could have to learn to deal with in the public school system.
Weird isn’t always a bad thing. I’ve been a little weird my whole life, and have come to quite value my weirdness. Lol.
Thanks for chiming in. I like people who make me think.
Comment by Mom — February 8, 2007 @ 5:15 pm
You have some good points. I worry about the wierdness factor too and am always carefully checking my young homeschooled kids for signs of strangeness(I guess I am a little paranoid about it–I am a suburban soccer type mom who probably would have been voted the ‘last to ever homeschool’ in high school!
I do agree that the two groups are socialized differently. I think hs kids might be clueless on some of the current cool sayings, jokes etc that might circulate through a particular class or grade which might make them seem the odd man out. They also tend to be much less media centered than many ps kids so might find it difficult to relate to some of those topics.
I have also noticed that most hs kids really like learning and haven’t gotten burned out on it yet, so are much more willingly to talk about things they have studied or read, etc, which might fall flat if mentioned to a child who has just been relieved from sitting for 7 hours and doesn’t want to talk about anything slightly educational at that moment. Some gentle parental coaching might help them find common interests.
I also think hs kids appear younger than ps counterparts. Critics will call this immaturity, however I disagree. I think hs kids play more and retain their innocence longer, while more ps kids are striving to act and seem older to fit in with their peers or to emulate some current pop idol. They may seem older, but I don’t confuse this with maturity, because I don’t think their judgment ages along with their actions and appearance.
I have heard a parent lament so many times, that their child ‘changed’ after going to school. Sometimes this happens after sending to K, sometimes later around 4th or 5th grade when their previously creative, compliant child has been replaced with a more sassy, peer obsessed one that they struggle to know.
Again, people might say this is developmental or necessary to growing up, but you rarely hear it from a homeschool parent.
I also think, though most homeschool kids might be somewhat different, that how they appear to others has a lot to do with the parenting they receive. Some homeschoolers are told they are smarter, more wonderful, more whatever than public schoolers and generally think the world revolves around them. Some rarely have contact with other kids that aren’t exactly like them.
I personally feel that if homeschooled children are taught to respect others, have lots of contact with other kids and have parents who are social and active in the community, they will be just fine.—CAT
Comment by Cat — February 10, 2007 @ 2:32 pm
Yes, that’s just the sort of thing I was getting at. It’s a sort of cultural difference, and people from one culture often seem strange to people from another culture. Since we all live in the same general geographical area, we tend to assume that most of the people around us share the same culture, but we really don’t. Sometimes it’s easy to see that a person is likely to have some cultural differences. For example the way an Amish person dresses gives other people a clue about their culture. A dark skinned woman wearing a Uwole gives us a hint at the kind of traditions she has embraced.
But sometimes cultural differences are not so apparent. When we see someone who dresses the same way we do, lives in the same neighborhood, eats the same kinds of foods, celebrates the same holidays, and so forth, we expect them to be “like us”. And then when they do or say something unexpected, it catches us off guard, even if it’s a perfectly “normal” thing to say or do in that person’s culture. (Whether that be ethnic, religious, political, or educational.) And we often feel off-balance, and even a little threatened by these subtle cultural differences.
I had an interesting conversation with a little neighborhood girl the other day, who was under the impression that people who wear a cross on a necklace do so because their ancestors crucified Jesus and they’re proud of it because they “hate” Jesus. I was glad to have the opportunity to explain to her that these people love Jesus and believe in Him, and that they wear the cross in remembrance of His having died on the cross for them. But this was different from her family’s religious tradition (in which one’s belief in Christ is meant to be shown in the way they live and treat others, rather than in a physical object to be worn). She certainly had come up with an interesting interpretation for a culturally unfamiliar practice. I was glad she’d asked me about it. I think we need to talk more about differences–and not be offended when people ask us about our own differences. It’s so much easier to be friends when we don’t have these cultural misconceptions between us, and when we talk about them we so frequently find that we’re more similar that we thought.
Comment by Mom — February 11, 2007 @ 6:14 pm
You are so right. What an interesting comment by that little girl. I wonder where she ever got that idea about crosses? –CAT
Comment by Cat — February 11, 2007 @ 6:19 pm
I wonder too. My best guess is she just made assumptions on her own about why someone would wear one, but I don’t know. I’m just glad she asked.
Comment by Mom — February 13, 2007 @ 7:17 pm